


That's My Seat

by lonelyAndroid



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyAndroid/pseuds/lonelyAndroid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know in that when you sit in the same seat in a class for a few days, and then weeks, everyone accepts it as your territory? Well, not everyone.<br/>The problems of a left-handed Sly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's My Seat

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first...thing...I've ever posted to here, and one of the few I've written. This is self-beta'd, so I do think there'll be some mistakes. If there's anything super obvious or confusing it would be appreciated if you'd let me know!  
> If there are any left-handed people reading, please give me your input as I am a right-handed individual. : -)

 

Classes usually went by slowly for Sly. His first class always had little to no free time, but since his teacher talked and interacted with students a lot throughout, that class always went by quickly. Walking into his next class, he looked over to the far right side of the classroom, where the only lefty-seat in the classroom was located. It was his seat. He furrowed his brow as he realized someone else was in his seat. A very noticeable person, dressed in layers and a large amount of black and green. Walking between columns of desks, he made his way to the student in his seat.

 

 

"Hey."

 

 

The student looked up, his eyes lighter in color and his hair more in his face than he had expected, but this wasn't going to deter him.

 

"You’re in my seat."

 

The student kept a nonchalant attitude about him, his face neutral as he responded. "Oh? Is your name here?"

 

"No, but that’s still my seat."

 

"How is this seat yours? It’s not your property."

 

"I have sat in this seat every day for the entire semester. It’s my seat."

 

 

Students were filing into the remaining seats as they waited for class to start.

 

"Ah, it’s your usual seat, but it doesn’t belong to you."

 

 

He was searching his mind for a response. _What the hell?_ "I bet you’re not even left handed."

 

 

The student raised his eyebrows. He drew a pencil out of the spiral of his notebook and placed it in his left hand, writing, ‘I bet you’re not even left handed’ in clean, sharp handwriting.

 

Sly huffed. "How do I know you’re not ambidextrous?"

 

The student placed the pencil in his right hand and wrote out what looked like _l arn no+ arnbiolex+vious_. He was even more irritated now. There were only a few minutes remaining until his teacher walked in and started class.

 

"Look, asshole, it’s inconvenient trying to right on the other desks."

 

The student looked at Sly, amused to have him so desperate.

 

"And? You’re telling me to inconvenience myself so that you can write more easily?"

 

"I’m saying that you can’t just walk in here and take my seat."

 

The teacher walked through the door, walking to her desk and beginning to place her things away and prepare for the lesson.

 

"Haven’t we been through this? This is not specifically your seat."

 

"Look! I’ve sat in this seat the entire year, and everyone knows that means that it is my seat."

 

"The chances of you sitting in this chair each day are not related. You have tons of other desks. I just sat here. You’re freaking out over a spot."

 

The teacher noticed Sly standing and looked up at the two of them. By now there were a few kids staring, and with the addition of the teacher most of the students were now staring. _Oh, fuck._

 

"Is there a problem?"

 

"No!"/"Yes."  _Dammit!_

 

"Okay. What’s problem?"

 

The student looked towards the teacher. He cocked his head slightly, rolled his eyes, and pointed his thumb towards Sly. ‘He thinks that this desk belongs to him."

 

‘No, I do not! I sit in this desk every day; this is my regular seat for an optimal learning experience."

 

The teacher frowned. "Why can’t you sit at another desk?"

 

Sly looked at the teacher, trying to not be rude as much as he could in such an awful mood, thanks to this brat. "This is the only left-handed desk.’

 

"And?’

 

 _???_  "The desks are made so you can rest your dominant hand on the side…? This is the only chair where the rest is on the left."

 

The teacher wasn’t in a mood to argue with him. "I’m sorry; you’re just going to have to use a regular desk."

 

"You’re not understanding. It’s physically painful trying to write in these desks. It’s hard enough trying to write in a notebook and these desks-"

"Enough. I have a class to teach, which you can either listen to or leave."

 

Grumbling, he sat down in the dreaded righty chair, figuring that any other comment he made would have him sent out. Since there was no one sitting next to him, he used the desktop there. After 5 minutes into the lesson, he saw something flicker in his peripheral vision. He turned and saw the student. Giving him a middle finger.

 

"Are you serious? I am trying to co-"

 

The teacher stopped the lesson and interrupted him. "Do you need escorted out?"

 

"He’s insulting me!"

 

"I didn’t hear anything. Did anyone hear anything?"

 

The students collectively shook their heads. There was one student, dressed in grey and dark green, on the other side of the room smiling as he did so, like this wasn't unusual for the student.

 

"He didn’t say anything! He was…making rude gestures."

 

"I do not have time for this. You can leave."

 

"What? I’m the one being insulted and you’re asking me to leave?"

 

"Well, you seem to be the one caused a distraction, and it seems like you are not trying to have an optimal learning experience. Out."

 

"What?"

 

"Out."

 

"I.." His words faltered. His hands fell, defeated. Sly grabbed his untidy notes and pencils, shoving them in his bag, and got up to leave. The teacher turned her back and began teaching again. He began walking down the long aisle between desks as he was tripped. He didn’t fall, but he stumbled, inciting a few snickers from students who watched. He turned around to look at the student, who was smiling at him triumphantly. He put all of his strength into trying not to hit him, took a deep breath, and walked out.

 

* * *

 

 

 

In his dorm, he looked through his notes and realized he had missed a good portion of what the teacher was writing about. He wouldn’t be able to understand the next lesson unless he could find the previous notes. He didn’t have friends in the class, or many friends at all, so it was unlikely that he would find notes to borrow. Hell, he could barely read what he had written. His thoughts were swirling in his head, giving him a headache. He needed a break.

 

 

He left his room with his bag and walked down to the library. He might as well make use of the knowledge and quiet there. He sat in a chair from one of the tables and pulled out his laptop, working on a paper he had due at the end of the week. History was not his favorite subject. After two paragraphs in, he passed out on his keyboard. By the time he woke, the time was around 5, and he was really hungry. He figured he had gotten enough finished for the day and would work on it tomorrow. Upon closing his laptop, he noticed papers taped to his computer. They were loose-leaf and the writing on them was sharp, but neat. He noticed a sticky note on top.

 

_Here’s today’s notes_

_-Asshole in the Lefty Seat_

_(Noiz)_

 

He was caught between thankful and infuriated.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell who the teacher is?


End file.
